Forsaken Luna

Chapter 2 - The Chosen Alpha

Nyx

DAYS BLURRED INTO WEEKS, and weeks blurred into years. I was finally allowed to visit my father’s grave only to find out he had been buried as an omega. I scrubbed, carried, obeyed. Every ache in my back, every blister on my palms, every snarky comment from those above my rank carved deeper into the humiliation.

“Pathetic, isn’t she?” It was Talia, the eldest of the omegas. “Granddaughter of an alpha. And here she is, scrubbing floors like the rest of us.”

“Not like the rest of us,” another voice chimed, giggling. “At least we have wolves.” My jaw tightened. I pressed the rag harder against the pot.

“She twitched like a dying rabbit that night,” Talia went on, her voice pitched loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear. “Squealing and screaming and nothing to show for it. No wolf, no howl. Just a broken girl.”

“At least I didn’t piss myself when the fire flared,” I muttered, my voice low but cutting. The kitchen was still. I hadn’t meant to say it aloud. A hiss of breath. Then Talia’s footsteps, quick and heavy. Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. Pain lanced across my scalp.

“You think you’re clever, omega?” Talia snarled, her breath hot against my ear, saying my rank as if it was worse than hers. “Say that again.”

“I said … at least I didn’t piss myself.” My emerald eyes flashed as I twisted, forcing the words through clenched teeth. Gasps echoed around us. Talia’s hand cracked across my face, the slap echoing through the kitchen.

“Hit me again,” I whispered as I kept her gaze. My voice trembling but steady. “And see what happens.” I had been beaten and abused so many times over the past four years, that I really didn’t care anymore. The harder they hit, the more determined I became.

Talia’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, just a moment, something flickered there. Uncertainty. As though she could sense that I wasn’t entirely the broken, shiftless omega they all believed. But then Talia smirked, shoving me back toward the basin.

“Careful, little rabbit. Empty threats don’t grow fangs.” The laughter returned, louder now, covering the unease that lingered in the edges of their gazes. I bent my head, my pulse pounding, and forced myself back to the pot.

My humiliation for the day didn’t end there. My grandfather had me dragged to the great hall so that he could remind me of my place in this world.

“You shame me.” His voice filled the hall, deep and sharp as a blade. The elders weren’t there for once. I flinched at the words though I tried not to. I clenched my fists in my lap until my nails bit crescents into my skin.

“You were born with a name that should have carried power,” he continued, his footsteps echoing as he paced. “Your father’s blood runs in your veins, yet you kneel here with nothing to show. No wolf. No honor. No use.”

I wanted to tell him I had felt my wolf, that whisper in the dark, the promise of something more. But he would not believe me. He never believed me. I was a disappointment from the day I was born. In his eyes, I was already discarded. Anger slowly simmered inside me.

“She’s there. I know she’s there.” My voice betrayed me, small and hoarse. My grandfather stopped pacing. The silence pressed heavier than his words. Then, with deliberate slowness, he closed the gap between us.

His boots clicked against the stone until they stopped in front of me. A hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. I gasped, pain shooting through my scalp. No matter how many times they did it to me, it always hurt. His eyes were cold as steel as he tried to look right into my soul.

“You speak of things you do not understand,” he snarled. “A wolf who cannot shift is no wolf at all. You will learn your place, girl. You will serve until the day you break beneath it.” He spat the words at me as if they were poison meant to kill me.

My tears burned but did not fall. I would not give him that satisfaction. He shoved me away. My body hitting the floor with a dull thud. He hadn’t broken me in the past four years. He was not going to break me now.

“Get out of my sight,” he shouted, and I scrambled to my feet, bowing my head once more before fleeing the hall.

In the evening, the entire pack was gathered around the Moonrise ritual circle. Whispers of what was going on floated thick through the air, but after my encounter with my grandfather earlier, I suspected what was about to happen.

The great fire roared in the heart of the circle, flames clawing at the night sky. The ceremony was ancient, older than memory, binding tradition with destiny. Tonight, the title of Alpha would be passed. Tonight, Orion, son of the beta, would become the chosen Alpha.

I stood far behind the warriors, among the omegas who clustered like ghosts at the edge of the firelight. I tried to ignore the ache in my legs, the cold that seeped through my thin dress. My humiliation hadn’t faded. It had only thickened, coating my lungs until every breath felt heavy.

I shouldn’t be there. I wanted to run, to hide where no eyes could pierce mine. But no one was excused from an Alpha’s ceremony. Not even me. Especially not me. My gaze slid towards Orion. He stood at the center, the fire like a crown around his blond hair.

His shoulders were square, his presence a force that demanded silence. He wore no cloak tonight, only the carved leather harness that bared the breadth of his chest, a mark of strength and tradition. His jaw was hard, his eyes bright, and when he raised his chin, the pack howled as one.

My breath hitched. I hadn’t even heard my grandfather’s announcement. The sound stirred something inside me, a restless pulse, an ache beneath my skin. I pressed my nails into my palms, willing it away. I didn’t belong there. I didn’t belong anywhere.

The High Elder stepped forward, raising his staff. “By the will of the Moon, by the blood of our fathers, we name Orion, son of Aedric, the Alpha of this pack.” The words rippled like thunder. Warriors slammed fists to chests. The howl rose higher, echoing through the trees.

And then … It happened. A shattering inside me, sudden and violent. My chest seized. My lungs caught. Heat surged through my veins, wild and untamed. My knees buckled as a tether snapped into place, threading from my heart into the fire, straight into him.

My wolf, silent, buried, absent, suddenly lurched awake, clawing against my inside.

“Mate.” The word thundered in my skull, undeniable. I gasped, clutching my chest. Emerald eyes went wide, locking on the one figure who suddenly filled my entire world. Orion. He turned. Slowly. His gaze cut across the firelight, piercing, sharp. And then our eyes met.

Blue against green. The air between us is searing hot. My lips trembled. My pulse raced so fast I thought I might faint. Every part of me screamed the truth. The bond was real, alive, forged by the Moon herself.

My heart soared, fractured, rebuilt all at once. But Orion’s face … It hardened. Shock flickered across his features for a heartbeat, then disgust. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, his lips curled as though he had bitten into ash.

The silence spread. The pack shifted uneasily, whispers threading through the crowd.

“She’s reacting …” The omega beside me took a couple of steps back.

“No, not her…” Someone gasped. “The orphan?” My throat burned. I opened her mouth, desperate, terrified, hopeful.

“Orion …” My voice was barely audible. He stepped forward, his voice ringing clear.

“No.” His simple word cracked like a whip. The murmurs sharpened into silence.

“No?” the High Elder echoed, frowning. Orion’s gaze never left mine. His words were for me alone, though the entire pack heard them.

“I reject you, Nyx.” Orion growled. The world broke. My knees hit the dirt, the pain inside my chest ripping so violently it stole my scream. I doubled over, arms clutching myself, as though I could hold together the pieces of my shattering soul.

The bond burned white-hot, then tore, leaving me gasping, hollow, and ruined. Laughter rippled through the pack, cruel and sharp. Some clapped hands over mouths to stifle it. Others didn’t bother. I shook my head, emerald eyes wide, tears blurring firelight.

“No, please, I …” I gasped. But Orion’s stare was ice.

“A wolf who cannot shift,” his voice carried, “cannot lead. Cannot stand at my side. You are nothing, Nyx.” The words gutted me more than claws ever could. My grandfather’s voice followed, sealing the wound with salt.

“A wolf who cannot shift is no wolf at all.” His tone dripped with contempt. The pack roared with approval. The drums resumed. Orion turned his back, lifting his arms to claim the mantle of Alpha as though nothing had happened, as though my very existence had not just been obliterated under his heel.

I remained on the ground. Shaking. Broken. My tears dripped into the dirt, vanishing as quickly as they fell. Around me, the fire burned, the howls rose, the ceremony surged on. But inside, a silence deeper than the grave settled.

The Moon had given me a mate. The Alpha. And he had destroyed me in front of them all.